Emerald Eyes of the Ibad
by OlorinTheMaiar
Summary: Harry is the Master of Death. After the death of the wizarding world's savior during a muggle robbery, Harry is thrown into a familiar, yet alien world. He is thrown into a war, only to find that his coming was foretold. He is the Verdant One.
1. The Death of a Hero

**Emerald Eyes of the Idab**

Warning: Gore, language, adult themes, possibly more warnings to come THIS IS NOT A SLASH FIC!

A/N: I do not own _Dune_ or _Harry Potter_. I do not make money off of this. Please do not sue me.

A/N: This story is canon HP disregarding the epilogue. It is pretty adherent to the _Dune_ canon up until the reallocation of Fief Atreides to Arrakis, only disregarding _Paul of Dune_ and _Winds of Dune_ since they contain a few facts that were contrary to the original _Dune_ works (specifically where it says that Paul had never been on a Highliner before his trip to Arrakis)

A/N: I am looking for a beta for this story, preferably one that is well versed in the _Dune_ universe. This story will mainly take place in _Dune_, but it may eventually extend into _Dune Messiah_ or _Children of Dune_, so knowledge of those books are the most important, whereas it would be helpful if the beta was also familiar with the trilogies about the Butlerian Jihad and the Tlulax invasion of Ix since the events may be referenced in the background of the story.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: The Death of a Hero<strong>

After battling basilisks, storming top secret government facilities on rescue missions, hunting and destroying dark magical artifacts, and finally defeating the most powerful Dark Lord , the everyday magical world was just plain tedious. After the fall of the Dark Lord, he spent three years on the International Dueling Circuit, finishing on the Champion's podium at the World Championships in Rome in 2002. After his final duel against Augusto de Medici, he announced his retirement.

Once finished with his Dueling career, Harry was thrown back into the public's political eye. No longer did he just dominate the Sports column in _The Daily Prophet_. Now he was right back to front page news: "Who is Harry dating now?", "Where does the Dark Lord's Bane go to shop?", "What brand of shampoo does the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Save-Us-All use?" (At the time, Harry was actually surprised to see the last article… it was a slow news day) He quickly grew sick of it all.

So, in 2005, Harry James Potter retreated from the public wizarding world. He closed the Potter Family Mansion and moved to Ireland. After being advised by the only good friend that had ties to the muggle world, Hermione Weasley, Harry opened a small bookstore in Cork named _The Aged Tome_. He didn't need the money. No, his inheritance from both his parents and his godfather could support him for multiple lifetimes. Harry just wanted something to busy himself with. Over the years, he grew to love the muggle world. He only journeyed into the wizarding realm to visit his friends (with weekly Sunday visits to go see Teddy) and sort out his family finances.

_The Aged Tome_ slowly became a literary hotspot. There was always at least one person in one of the lounge chairs reading, or standing at the counter with a cup of tea, chatting with 'Mr. P' about the latest book they read.

This was the way Harry had lived for the last fifteen years. Mr. P had become a legend around University College in Cork. He would host study groups after hours, direct students to the right references if students were having trouble on papers, he even gave relationship advice to young men who had no clue as to how to deal with women (which drew many laughs from his friends who knew him from school since he was probably the most oblivious kid in the history of Hogwarts when it came to matters of the heart).

Harry was not only successful as a businessman (while he may not have sold a great amount of books, the small café he eventually set up inside the store made up for the loss of revenue), but he loved his work. As soon as he started to read some of the novels that he stocked in his shop, he became addicted. While mostly steering for the Science Fiction and Fantasy, he read anything he could get his hands on. He could quote the Litany Against Fear of the Bene Gesserit*, name the Twelve Valar**, or name all the characters from Mary Shelley's _Frankenstein_ off the top of his head. For the first time in his life, Harry James Potter, World Dueling Champion, Bane of Voldemort, proprietor of _The Aged Tome_, had found his place in the world and he was happy.

This all came crashing down one frigid February morning. Harry was relaxing after the morning tea rush had finally subsided. It had been particularly brutal this morning. Angela McKenna (one of Harry's usuals) had come in with a mob of relatives that were visiting for the day. Whereas Harry usually had between five and nine students casually sipping their tea, finishing up the assignments that were due that day on their laptops (Harry let them print from a printer in the shop for free), today there had been no less than twenty three people crammed inside the tiny, two story book shop. Harry spent the morning tiptoeing around people lounging on the floor (all of the eight chairs were occupied), picking up discarded tea cups before they got crushed, or picking up piles of books that had been unknowingly knocked off of the bookshelves. Once everyone had left, Angela stayed behind, apologizing for her family's behavior and helped pick up the mess. When all was said and done, Harry thanked and reassured the petite redhead that it was no problem.

Harry had collapsed in the rickety chair behind the counter once the bell attached to the door signaled Angela's departure. He picked up his favorite book, _Dune_, and started to reread it (for about the fortieth time), determined to get some relaxation in before the lunchtime rush. He had just reached Paul's trial by the Gom Jabbar when he heard the bell on the door ring, signaling the entrance of a new customer.

Harry sighed, resting his tattered copy of _Dune_ on the countertop, he pulled himself to his feet. He winced as his right arm cramped. The old Basilisk bite he had received twenty years ago was acting up again. He smiled to his new customer as they made a beeline to the back of the shop where he was sitting. The customer had his hood pulled up, obscuring his face. Harry did not think that this was too odd, it was February, and it definitely was cold. Harry shrugged it off, thinking, 'He must have not seen the coat rack by the door.'

"How can I help you sir? Are you looking for something specific or do you ju-"

The new customer cut him off by pulling a revolver out of his sweatshirt pocket. "Let me see your hands!" Harry could tell this was definitely not going to be a good day. Calmly he raised his hands and placed them on the counter in front of him, on either side of his tatty copy of _Dune_.

'I just had to get held up on one of the few days I forget my wand at home,' Harry thought. 'I'm an idiot.' He continued verbally, "Alright take it easy, we don't want anyone to get hurt."

Harry's masked assailant threw a pillowcase across the counter. "Put the money from the till in there… and the moneybox under the counter. Yeah…that too."

Now Harry recognized the voice. "Brian, what are you doing?" he asked in a calm and sympathetic voice, "I am sure whatever you need we can work this out, just put the gun away."

Harry suddenly realized that it was probably a bad idea to let Brian know that he had been recognized because the hand that held the revolver immediately started to shake violently.

"No, Mr. P. I c-can't! I owe th-them m-money. They'll… They'll kill me if-f I d-don't pay them tomorrow."

Harry looked into Brian's eyes and dove into his Duelist training. In addition to the regular duelist's arsenal, he had developed a specialized form of legilimancy. Instead of reading people's memories and thoughts, he read people's intentions. Eventually he developed this into a way to manipulate those intentions. He was able to plant emotions and feelings (doubt, confidence, arrogance, cowardice) in order to chance the person's perception of the world around them, and thus their intensions. Right now, Harry planted reassurance and trust. To Brian, Mr. P was a person he could rely on for help (which Brian would have felt anyway if he wasn't coming down from a crack high).

"Brian, I can help you. Put the gun down and we can talk. I won't let them kill you. Let me help."

"Y-you'd really help me, Mr. P? You w-wouldn't be a-angry with me?"

"Yes, I will help you and no, Brian, I wouldn't," and Harry was surprised to find it to be true, he wouldn't be angry, just sad. Brian had been coming over to the shop since the first day Harry had opened. He had given little Brian _The Wizard of Oz_ while his mother browsed and let him keep it for free when he was told by his mother that they really couldn't afford it. Ever since then, Harry had watched little Brian grow up, always drumming up a conversation whenever he entered the store (which was about twice a week). In the past six months, Harry had watched little Brian go downhill fast. He had dropped out of University College and started his crack addiction. Harry had tried to get Brian to talk about his addiction the past few times he had been in the store, but the young man had waved it off, saying that Harry was imagining it.

Brian broke down in tears, "T-thank you, M-Mr. P! Thank you! I don't-_hic_-I don't kno-"

Outside the shop, a car backfired, causing Brian to flinch.

Unfortunately for Harry, Brian's flinch caused the finger resting on the revolver's trigger to contract.

There was a spray of blood. Harry immediately clamped a hand to his neck, blood seeping out between his fingers. With his other hand he clawed at the counter, trying to find something that could possibly allow him to cling to life. Alas, Harry's fingers only clasped around his tattered copy of _Dune_.

Clutching the book to his chest, he fell to the floor, his life slowly staining the carpet of his beloved book shop. Seeing the horror that his actions had caused, the death of one of his oldest friends, Brian ran.

It wasn't until about a half an hour later when Angela McKenna hurried back into the shop, looking for her laptop which she had forgotten that morning, that Harry's body was found. She ran from the shop, screaming at the top of her lungs, trying to find someone to help Mr. P.

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><p>It was a solemn day. The wizarding world was mourning the loss of one of the greatest heroes of the age. Thousands attended the memorial service on the lawns of Hogwarts. While a handful of these had actually known Harry Potter, most were just well-wishers, paying homage to the man who had delivered them from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Minister of Magic Justin Finch-Fletchly had ignored Harry's will and commandeered the body so that it may be buried at the sight of his greatest victory, Hogwarts. According to the Minister, "The two greatest heroes Magical Britain has ever seen, Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter, deserve to rest in peace together, at the site where their labors came to fruition in the defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."<p>

Of course, Harry's friends could not allow that to happen. In an operation that was worthy of the muggle spy novels, Teddy Lupin, the entire Weasley clan (including Hermione, Fleur, and, surprisingly, Percy's wife Audrey), Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and the aging Professor McGonagall 'liberated' ("Grave robbing" Hermione had coughed every time the term had come up, only to be silenced by McGonagall) Harry's body and returned it to Cork where his funeral would be held with his family and muggle friends he had made while living in Ireland.

In Cork, most of University College attended Harry's funeral. The students that had fallen in love with the odd man who ran the bookstore got to give their condolences to his loved ones, and swapped their fondest memories (magic excluded, of course) of Harry. Most of Harry's magical friends were shocked at how many people Harry Potter had helped and how many lives he had touched by just being there as a friend. Hermione had burst into tears when she had heard that the Literature department had almost doubled in the past five years, most of the students attributing the boom in the interest of literature to growing up at _The Aged Tome_ and discussing books and stories with Mr. P.

A few close muggle friends had followed the casket back to England, to Godric's Hollow, where Harry was buried next to his parents.

Slowly, things went back to normal in Cork. Teddy Lupin and his new wife, Rose Lupin neè Weasley took over _The Aged Tome_, continuing the tradition of his godfather. The city of Cork dubbed a newly built, state of the art library _The Harry Potter Memorial Library_ in thanks to Mr. P's "promotion of literature and culture within Cork". University College quickly adapted to the change in management of the small bookstore. It wasn't long until Teddy had to buy the small antique store next door to expand the bookshop. While the idea was that customers would actually have room to breathe in the shop (the shop had been getting more and more popular as time went on), the idea actually backfired. Now that there was more room for new shelves, there was more room for a more diverse inventory, which just drew in more customers.

Brian had turned himself in the day after Harry's murder. He confessed to the crime in its entirety. He had killed one of the few people who cared about him.

Angela McKenna was the Lupins' first employee after they had expanded the shop. Years later, when the Lupins' decided to open a second _The Aged Tome_ in Dublin, down the street from Trinity College, Angela jumped at the opportunity to manage it, trying to carry on Mr. P's legacy.

It would seem that Harry's legacy ends here: the destruction of a Basilisk, the rescue of an innocent prisoner, the winning of the Tri-wizard cup, the infiltration of a secure location at the Ministry of Magic, the hunting down of Voldemort's horcruxes and his subsequent defeat, and finally (and most importantly to some, including Harry) the founding of a bookshop. It would seem that his story ends here.

But, no… That would be too easy. Harry James Potter's journey was just beginning.

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><p>BANG!<p>

Pain. Heat. Falling…falling…falling.

Blackness.

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><p>"Urgh!" Harry mumbled to himself, trying to find the strength to open his eyes.<p>

Finally mustering his strength, he opened his eyes. To his surprise, the room swam into focus. Apparently not needing his glasses, he scanned the room, drinking in the sight before him. The walls of this room seemed to have been made out of some non-porous material, lending the room a clean, sterile look. 'Since this is probably a hospital, the room probably _is_ sterile.' All around the walls were shelves of alien looking devices and chemicals.

Glancing up at the ceiling, Harry saw that the same material that made up the walls stretched to cover the roof. Harry shivered as he had the idea that likened his situation to being trapped in a shrink-wrapped plastic box. Recovering from his moment of disturbia, he noticed that the only things that illuminated the room were four glowing globes, floating at a set height. 'OK, that probably means I am at St. Mungo's. I think I remember seeing something like that when I went to visit Mr. Weasley back in fifth year.'

It was on his third visual pass of the room that Harry noticed the other person in the room. He didn't see the person, per se, but rather sensed him since the boy was sitting on the floor, next to the bed, his back against the wall. Harry couldn't move his head that much because his neck seemed to be plastered in bandages. He tensed in preparation to sit up, wanting to face the child, not lay in bed like an invalid, and was immediately wracked with sharp pains that radiated from his neck and seemed to burn through his entire nervous system.

"Um… excuse me?" Harry coughed, his voice barely coming out as a whisper, "Would you possibly know how I can contact the healer?"

The boy sitting on the ground gracefully got to his feet. Clad in a black military coat, the boy cut an impressive figure. His short black hair was combed and styled with precision. His thin, aquiline nose was perched below piercing brown eyes. Harry mentally chuckled, seeing this child dressed in a military uniform. He couldn't be more than thirteen.

Harry shivered as the boy met his gaze. Harry could sense great power in this boy, but this power lay out of reach, locked away, waiting to be released. Above that power, closer to the surface of the boy's mind, his emotions played. The boy was curious about Harry, excited and wary.

"The doctor is on his way as we speak. I sent a message to him as soon as you woke. "

"I am sorry to ask, but could you tell me where I am? It looks a little like St. Mungo's, but I've never seen anything like those instruments before." He nodded to the shelves of devices.

"I do not know what or where St. Mungo's is, but you are currently residing in the infirmary of my ancestral home."

"I am sorry, but that does not tell me where I am."

The boy gave a small smile, "No, I guess it doesn't. Does it?"

Harry sighed. Dragging information out of this boy was going to a bit more of a challenge than trying to talk to average college student in his shop. The boy's aristocratic poise and speech patterns reminded Harry slightly of Draco Malfoy. The person in front him, however, was very reserved, only making judgments after all the facts were in. From the glances into the boy's mind, Harry was slowly gaining respect for the boy. While still a child, he spoke with the poise and confidence of an elder statesman.

"Well, let's try another question. May I have your name?"

The boy seemed to have been taken by surprise, as if he thought everyone would know who he was. "I am sorry, where is my manners?" the boy gave a slight nod of respect, "I am Paul Atreides, Heir to my father, Duke Leto Atreides of Arrakis, formerly of Caladan."

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><p>*From <em>Dune<em> by Frank Herbert

**From the_ Simarillion _by JRR Tolkien

OK, I won't know how you feel about this story if you don't review. This is my first crossover so input would be appreciated.


	2. Melange Reactions and Emerald Eyes

Warning: Language, adult themes, possibly more warnings to come

A/N: I do not own _Dune_ or _Harry Potter_. I do not make money off of this. Please do not sue me.

A/N: This story begins in the _Dune_ universe just after Shaddam IV has just announced the Change of Fief for House Atreides, six months before the begining of _Dune_.

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><p><strong>"Well, let's try another question. May I have your name?"<strong>

**The boy seemed to have been taken by surprise, as if he thought everyone would know who he was. "I am sorry, where is my manners?" the boy gave a slight nod of respect, "I am Paul Atreides, Heir to my father, Duke Leto Atreides of Arrakis, formerly of Caladan."**

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><p><em>The Mourning Umma came to Muab'dib in a Coriolis Storm of Water. Unlike Muab'dib, the Umma claimed to know the true Path of Time, rather than to see the wandering trails of time that our choices create. What Muab'dib eventually came to See, the Umma had already Known.<em>

_-From "The Acts of the Verdant One" by Korba the Panegyrist-_

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><p>Harry was stumped. He was hallucinating. Yes, that was it! This is all a dream. 'But if this is a dream, why do I feel like I've been run over by a herd of rampaging hippogriffs? Well, even if I am hallucinating, this is cool! Who else could say that, instead of dying from a gunshot wound to the throat, they were thrown into their favorite novel?'<p>

"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. Would you, by any chance, know how I got here?" Harry couldn't very well just come out and say 'Hi, in my world this is all a book, and you aren't real!' so he feigned amnesia. "Do you know how I got this wound on my neck?"

Paul sighed, "We were hoping that you could tell us that. Three nights ago there was typhoon that swept in over Cala City and when it passed, some guards found you in the Castle Courtyard while they were looking for storm damage. They immediately brought you here. Doctor Yueh doesn't know what caused the wound in your neck. He can only speculate that it was caused by some flying debris during the storm. As to your history before the storm… our data bases have no knowledge of you. It is as if you just dropped out of the sky." If it wasn't for Harry's skill in Legilimency, he would have missed the momentary flicker of indecision in Paul's eyes. Intrigued, Harry skirted the barriers of the boy's mind, searching for the reason for that hesitation. Upon touching Paul's mind, he found the source.

'Should I tell him about my dreams? I know that he will become my companion, and I've seen myself telling him about my visions in this very room, but Mother told me to keep them secret, keep them safe… But should I trust my dreams? I've seen him do amazing things, impossible things, things that _can't_ be real… can they?'Harry stopped himself from smiling. He decided that he would have a little fun with the young Kwisatz Haderach.

"So…Tell me about your dreams, Usul."

Harry knew what would happen next. He had seen it a hundred times in many of his customers after he commented on hidden thoughts he heard through Legilimency. There would be a flash of surprise, then their reaction would dissolve into a simple expression of awe. Sometimes, depending upon the nature of what he said, there would be an aftershock of embarrassment or fear. He usually only did this to shut up people who were getting on his nerves or when someone was trying to hide the truth from themselves and it needed to be revealed (like when he tried to help Brian the last few times he had entered the shop). While Paul's reaction was severely muted due to his Bene Gesserit training, it was still there. His surprise was denoted by a miniscule widening of his eyes. It was quickly followed by awe, shown through a barely raised eyebrow and the slight opening of his mouth.

Paul quickly snapped out of his amazement. "How do you know about my dreams?

"I know many things," He decided to play the 'omniscient Dumbledore' angle. He wanted to follow this hallucination (if that what it truly is) as far as it would go. He knew that he would only be allowed to be part of the upcoming events if he was valuable to the family, and prescience was rare. Maybe he could help House Atreides avoid some of the sorrow that was to come. He didn't know how long he would be stuck here, but he would damn well make the most of it. "I know that you have been trained in the ways of the Bene Gesserit by your mother against her orders. I know that your paternal grandmother was behind the murder the Old Duke. I know the identity of your maternal grandparents. I know that your half brother was murdered by his mother in an assassination attempt on your father. I know who the love of your life will be… and who your wife will be. As I said, I know many things, past and future."

At each declaration of knowledge, Harry could feel Paul's surprise and awe deepen. Most of the statements were House secrets. The only statement that Paul doubted was the proposed knowledge of the identity of his maternal grandparents. Even his mother didn't know her parentage. He felt it unlikely that the person lying in the bed would know secrets jealously guarded by the Bene Gesserit. There was a slight pause in the conversation as Harry let his words sink in.

Harry was about to reinitiate the conversation when a look of realization crossed over Paul's face. Intrigued, Harry brushed up against the boy's mind.

'This corresponds perfectly to my dreams! Next he will ask me "What do your dreams tell you about me, Usul?"'

Harry smirked; the words Lady Jessica thought during her first meeting with Stilgar came to the forefront of his mind, "_If only he knew the tricks we use!_"*

"What do your dreams tell you about me, Usul?"

Paul's eyes lit up with excitement, all doubt blown away. "I have dreamt about this conversation. I have seen water flow from your outstretched hand into the desert. You will stand astride a sandworm and lead my fighters to victory for House Atreides. You will heal the wounded and cut down our enemies." The boy paused, seeming to consider what to say next. "You will be my companion, my confidant… my friend." The last word, _friend_, almost seemed foreign to Paul.

Harry realized that Paul must have never had a friend, a true friend that liked Paul for Paul, not the Heir to House Atreides. He may have played with the boys in the village, or with some of the Heirs of the Houses Minor on Caladan, but he always had to be wary, always looking over his shoulder for a threat, be it the Harkonnens or the Ixian Technocrats or any of the other multitudes of enemies that his father had made during the Tleilax occupation of Ix and the subsequent role of a peace negotiator. With Harry, Paul could be himself; his own visions had confirmed this fact.

"There is one thing, however, that my dreams haven't told me."

Harry let out a small chuckle, "Now what would that be?"

Paul smiled, "They haven't told me your name."

Harry could have face-palmed himself. "I'm sorry, that was rude of me. My name is Harry Potter, pleased to meet you." Harry tried to prop himself up so he could shake Paul's hand, but he had forgotten about his neck wound.

As soon as he started to move, pain shot through his nerves, forcing him to lie back on the bed. After the pain receded, it was replaced by a dull ache that seemed to penetrate his entire body.

"You rest, I will go find Doctor Yueh. He should have been here by now," and with that, Paul left the room.

As soon as his head hit the pillow, Harry closed his eyes and was fast asleep, not having noticed how tired he was.

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><p>Harry woke to Paul and another man ( whom Harry could only assume was Wellington Yueh, judging from the long dark hair tied up in a Suk School ring and a diamond tattooed to the middle of his forehead) speaking quietly in one of the corners of the room.<p>

Yueh noticed Harry's open eyes and quickly crossed over to the bed.

"Good you're awake. Now, just a few more things before you are discharged," the man rummaged around in one of his lab coat's pockets. "Ah, here we are." He pulled out what looked to be a small octagonal pillbox. "This was the reason I was delayed. The last thing required before your release is a simple melange wafer. There was some minimal spinal cord damage when you sustained your injuries. The easiest remedy is melange since it facilitates nerve growth and repair along with its other more common usages as a geriatric drug," The doctor was speaking quickly, barely pausing to take a breath, all the while flittering around the bed, checking monitors and readouts of the machines around the walls. "I needed to get Ducal approval to obtain some from storage since it is so expensive, which is why I was delayed," he turned to Paul, "Thank you for your help convincing your father," he returned his gaze back to Harry. "Now, you just put the wafer on your tongue and let it dissolve. This way, you will be able to leave in a few hours as opposed to a few months." He snapped open the pillbox and removed a rust colored octagonal wafer. "Open."Harry obeyed, opening his mouth and allowing Dr. Yueh to place the melange on his tongue.

When he read _Dune_, Harry had always wondered what spice would taste like. The reality greatly exceeded his highest expectations. To Harry, the melange was pure ecstasy. He could feel himself rejuvenated. The spice tore through his body, causing his magical core to expand from the size of a snitch, lodged beneath his sternum, to fill his entire body. He subconsciously associated the feeling with the first time he held his wand, but this… this was infinitely more powerful. 'I wonder if this means I'll be able to cast wandless magic' was Harry's last thought before he blacked out.

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><p>Something was going terribly, terribly wrong. Just a few seconds after Harry had closed mouth, his eyes rolled up into his head and his body tensed, his back arching against the bed. Paul wanted to run to the bed, concerned for its occupant, but he couldn't. Every time he attempted to move any part of his body, his flesh rebelled. This was not paralyzing fear or shock, no… this was as if he was a prisoner inside his own body, forced to watch the person on the bed, but prohibited to interfere.<p>

A low hum started to fill the room, growing in intensity until it was shaking the medical instruments that filled the room off of their stands, smashing to pieces on the floor. Slowly, Harry started to rise off of the bed, his body still straining against itself, levitating into the air.

Paul quickly realized that this too, was from another of his dreams. The boy's eyes widened. 'Ohh… This is going to hurt!' was all Paul could think before being launched at the wall, tearing through the sterility polymer membrane separating this room from the rest of the medical bay, flying into a group of guards that had just entered the large room.

They all collapsed in a heap, just in time to slightly cushion the landing of Dr. Yueh, who quickly followed Paul on his aerial exit of the sterility field. The only person who escaped the massive pile-up was Duncan Idaho, who only had time to register that a large projectile was speeding towards him. He quickly jumped and rolled to his left, unsheathing the Old Duke's sword, ready for another attack. Despite his Swordmaster training, he did not have time to realize that the projectile was actually Paul.

After doing a quick security scan of the room and calling for an emergency lockdown of the castle, he turned back to the pile of jumbled bodies. It was only then that he realized that both Paul and the Duke (who had been speaking to a couple of medics about the status of the mysterious victim of the typhoon and had been, unfortunately, standing in the path of Paul's trajectory) had been knocked unconscious along with the majority of the guards.

He blanched at the thought that this could be another assassination attempt but quickly took action. Calling for medics, he quickly began the process of extracting Paul and the Duke from the pile.

* * *

><p>"Sinus rhythm stimulators at 150 Joules… Clear!"<p>

Pain shot through Harry as his back arched, the electric current running across his heart.

"Raise to 200 Joules… Clear!" Again, all Harry felt was pain. "We have a steady rhythm. Harry, can you hear me?"

"Oww," was all Harry could moan. He tried to open his eyes, but was only confronted by the bright light from the glowglobe hanging directly above his head. "Argh!" he exclaimed as his eyes felt as if they had just been stabbed by the bright light. Needless to say, he immediately clamped his eyes shut. "Turn off the lights! It is _way_ too bright in here. Can you… oh what the hell! _Nox!_"

To the surprise of most of the people crowded into the small (newly repaired) sterility field, the glowglobes turned off. Unfortunately for Harry, the light of the glowglobes was also tied to their suspension function. So, when the glowglobe above his head went out, it also lost its levitation, sending it plummeting towards Harry's face. Thankfully the Lady Jessica was one of the people crowded around Harry's bed. She was able to catch the falling globe (even in the dark) before it was able to knock him unconscious and most likely break his nose.

Harry slowly opened his eyes. It was pitch black, but he could feel the presences of the others in the room. Just as Harry sensed Paul sitting by his bed, the others' presences resonated in Harry's magic. From what he knew of the personalities of the characters from the books, he could guess who were present in the room: Duke Leto, Lady Jessica, Paul, Gurney Halleck, Thufir Hawat, and Dr. Yueh.

"I will leave you to your questioning, but I have to say, Thufir, I have already healed him. If you damage him in your 'interogation'," Harry could actually hear the quotes around the word, "they you will be responsible for his health, not me." With that, Harry could hear Dr. Yueh walk to the exit, only to trip over some medical instrument and land on the floor with a loud crash. Mumbling something about idiotic assistants whose IQ you could count on one hand, he stood, brushed himself off, and left.

Thufir Hawat ignored the Suk. "I believe, Mr. Potter, that you have some questions to answer."

Harry knew what techniques that the legendary Warrior Mentat, the Atreides Master of Assasins, employed and, needless to say, he was scared. Harry decided to, again, dive into the omniscient façade that he had put up for Paul. "Now, now, Thufir, I do not believe that your usual tactics will be necessary… after all, we do have a truthsayer present."

Jessica spoke up, "I am sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Potter, but not all Bene Gesserit are truthsayers. The average Sister does not have that power."

"I know that, my Lady, but I was not speaking of you. I was referring of our very own Paul Atreides."

"That is not possible. The only truthsayers in existence derive from the Bene Gesserit. Besides, it is not possible for a man to-"

"He is telling the truth, mother."

Harry heard Paul's parrents' gasps and a grunt from Thufir as he absorbed this data and fell into Mentat mode.

Harry opened his eyes hesitantly, hoping that the light level was low enough that it wouldn't feel like he was stabbing himself in the cornea. Thankfully, the ambient light that was filtering through the sterility field walls was barely enough for him to see by. He glanced at Lady Jessica, wanting to see her reaction to this news and couldn't stifle a small chuckle.

"I beg your pardon, my Lady, but I never thought I would ever see a Bene Gesserit so surprised that their _prana-bindu_ training was overridden."

Jessica closed her mouth with a snap, her eyes narrowing in suspicion, "How do you-"

"Know of your training? As I told Paul, I know many things, including your training and heritage. I have seen parts of both your past and future."

Needing more information for comparison and verification, Thufir spoke up, "Is that a fact, Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, it is… Oh, you want a demonstration, do you? Let me see, what are some examples that will convince you? Hmm… Let's start with Lady Jessica," said woman raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow, "The day that Rhombur Vernius went to the Mother School on Wallach IX, Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam, while you were both hiding in an upper gallery behind a privacy screen, pointed out his Grace and told you that you were destined for him." Harry could tell that this had hit home as the Lady's eyes widened almost imperceptibly.

"Next, we move on to the great Warrior Mentat. When the Duke was imprisoned before his Trial by Forfeiture, you slipped him a dagger, which he then used to dispatch two Tleilax assassins. The next time you saw him, you slipped him a maula pistol.

"Guney Halleck, you're next. When you were under the command of Dominic Vernius at his smuggler base on Salusa Secundaus, you encountered a Fremen youth. Believe it or not, that was actually Liet Kynes, the Imperial Planetologist and Judge of the Change on Arrakis. Oh, almost forgot! You escaped Harkonnen enslavement by hiding in the shipment of blue obsidian that his Grace bought for Kailea Vernius's contemplation room, the one that was modeled after the Grand Ballroom on Ix.

"Duncan Idaho, after the Old Duke was killed, his Grace found you practicing with his father's sword, the same sword which he then gave to you just before you left for the Swordmaster Academy on Ginaz.

"Finally, we come to his Grace. When awaiting your Trial by Forfeiture in prison, you received a message cube simply stating that Shaddam IV was involved with the Tleilaxu and to use this information wisely. You then used that knowledge to blackmail the Emperor into coming to your rescue by bluffing, stating that your defense at the Trial would include full disclosure of Shaddam's involvement with the Tleilaxu.

"I know that at least one of you is probably thinking that I am a threat. I have enough knowledge of House Atreides that I could easily destroy this House. I could, but I won't. Paul can verify that I am telling the truth when I say that I only wish to use my knowledge for the betterment of House Atreides and to assist Paul in his _terrible purpose_."

Paul was the only one who seemed to be unaffected by this speech, "He speaks the truth."

There were a few moments of silence. Gurney Halleck broke the tension that was building in the room, "What is this _terrible purpose_ that you are talking about, and what does it have to do with Paul?"

"That is a secret of the Bene Gesserit, so I will defer this question to Lady Jessica."

All those surrounding Harry's bed turned to Lady Jessica, but she didn't seem to notice, "Is he the one, the one the Sisterhood has been waiting for?"

Harry gave a bark of a laugh, something he had developed in honor of Sirius, "Yes and no. He is your precious Kwisatz Haderach, but he is much greater than anything you could have expected. Paul shall not be controlled by the Sisterhood. He is what the Universe _needs_, not what the Sisterhood _wants_. For Paul's own safety, you _must_ keep this information out of their hands. They will seek to control him, to use him as a weapon that they can use to form today's universe into their own social experiment. Once they see that he cannot be controlled, they will attempt to destroy him so he could not be used against them." Harry sighed and looked the woman in the eye, "When Reverend Mother Mohiam comes to test Paul with the Gom Jabbar, you must keep silent about what I have told you. You have already disobeyed the Sisterhood once; you conceived a son out of love for the Duke instead of a daughter. I beg you, disobey them a second time, this time out of love for your son. Start his training immediately… He will need it."

Harry could feel Jessica's conflicting emotions waging behind her eyes. Eventually, Harry was rewarded with a small nod.

"I think, Mr. Potter, that, given your situation, a more extensive questioning is in order," Thufir Hawat's voice had a steely edge to it, "You, yourself, claim to have knowledge that could topple House Atreides, surely you agree that we should be cautious in-"

"No, Thufir. He is not to be interrogated like a prisoner or foreign combatant. Mr. Potter is our honored guest from here on."

"My Lady, I must insist. He could be an age-"

"I said NO Thufir. If he has so much information, and I don't doubt that he does, why would he come to us preaching that fact if he meant to destroy this House? No, he came to help. I trust Paul, and if Paul trusts Mr. Potter, then so do I." Lady Jessica turned to her son, who gave a small smile and nodded his confirmation.

"My Lord, surely you see the folly in this?"

"Thufir I trust Jessica implicitly and so should you. She has devoted her life to House Atreides. She is not Kailea, Thufir, move on and see Jessica for herself."

As the adults that had gathered around the hospital bed argued, no one except Paul noticed when Harry had fallen asleep.

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><p>"Mr. Potter… Mr. Potter, it's time for you to be discharged. You need to get up," Dr. Yueh's voice penetrated Harry's subconscious, jolting him of dreams of religious fanatics spreading across the galaxy under the flag of House Atreides and the banner of a green eye on a black field of stars*.<p>

"Hmm? What now?" He was still confused by the second banner that he saw in his dreams. He recognized the jihad that was to come, but what was the second banner? That wasn't in the books.

Harry turned to the Suk, but he was checking a readout on one of the many instruments around the room. "You're being discharged, Mr. Potter. I have been told that a guest suite has been set up for you to use until the move to Arrakis. Ohh, almost slipped my mind! Lady Jessica has left a letter for you on your bedside table." Harry looked, and, sure enough, there sat a letter addressed to '_Mister Harry Potter_'. He started to reach for the letter, but his attention was redirected as Dr. Yueh suddenly said, "I'll be right back, Mr. Potter. I need to check if these results against the data we collected earlier before your… shall we say, _telekinetic_ reaction to the melange?" and without waiting for a response, the Suk bustled out of the room.

Shrugging, Harry reached over to his bedside table ('I can move again without feeling like I've been put under the Cruciatus… Yay!') and picked up his letter. Looking around for any surveillance devices, he muttered a quick _Diffindo_ and the envelope fell away from the letter inside.

_Greetings Mr. Potter,_

_I have written to you to inform you of the present situation regarding your new position within House Atreides. After much convincing by both myself and my son, the Duke and his advisors have allowed you a trial period in which you will be allowed to prove your worth to the House and its Duke. Your skills will be assessed by both Gurney Halleck and myself. While you are allowed today as a day of rest and relaxation, we will begin your assessment tomorrow. Until your place within House Atreides has been secured, you will be escorted by a guard any time you decide to leave your room. _

_Paul has shared his dreams of you with me. I have to say, Mr. Potter, I am impressed. If you can do half the things Paul claims, you will be a worthy addition to House Atreides. Personally, I believe your claim of knowledge of the past, present, and future, although I don't know how you know the things you know. The only records of prescience that have been recorded have been shoddy at best. Your assertions of the future have been validated in my mind. I just received a message from Wallach IX stating that Reverend Mother Mohiam will be arriving to test Paul with the Gom Jabbar._

_I am heartily looking forward to your training. If what Paul says is true, you have as much, if not more, to teach us as we have to teach you._

_Sincerely,_

_Lady Jessica of House Atreides  
>Ducal Concubine<br>Sister of the Bene Gesserit_

After rereading the letter, he put the letter back on the desk, only for it to disintegrate before his very eyes ('So _that_ was instroy paper?). So he was going to be given a trial period? 'Well, I guess I'll just have to knock their socks off then, won't I? (Do people even wear socks in this reality?) It shouldn't be that hard if I throw around a little magic. I guess the only thing that I should be worried about will be weapons. Jessica said that they will be teaching me things, so I guess that it won't be that bad. They won't expect me to know everything immediately. I wonder if-"

Harry was snapped out of his rumination by Dr. Yueh who chose that moment to reenter the room. "Well, Mr. Potter, are you ready to," the doctor stopped midstride and midsentence, "Oh my… well, I wasn't expecting that." The doctor was staring at Harry like he was an extremely interesting bug.

"What? Do I have something on my face? Is something wrong?"

"I – er, I think it would be better if I showed you."

The doctor looked around for something reflective. Walking over to Harry with a small hand mirror (why that was in a hospital room, Harry did not know), the doctor held up the mirror so that Harry could clearly see his reflection.

Harry was stumped. He could probably process this if he saw each change individually, but not both at the same time. The wizard shook his head and stared back at his reflection, taking things one at a time.

The first thing he noticed was his eyes. Something must had happened when he had the reaction to the melange. Somehow, after only a small amount of melange, he had acquired what the Fremen called Eyes of the Ibad. While this was a normal characteristic on Arrakis, Harry knew that he would stand out like a sore thumb. Instead of the all encompassing dark blue of the Fremen's Eyes of the Ibad that seeped out of their cornea until the entire eye was a sapphire orb, Harry's eyes were _green_. The same vivid emerald color that used to only adorn his corneas now encompassed the entirety of both eyes. He didn't know if this would help him or hurt him when it came to his future interaction with the Fremen. While Eyes of the Ibad may help him become more readily accepted, the green might scare them away. Green was the color of mourning in the Fremen culture. He may be hailed as cursed with misery or a demon.

Harry didn't dwell on this though, there was a bigger change that effected him that was making his brain misfire, causing him to stare blindly at his reflection.

Harry was no longer the forty year old man he had been before he had been shot. No, he seventeen again.

* * *

><p>*<em>Dune<em> pg. 284 (paperback)

**For an image of this flag, see my profile picture


	3. Gaius Helen Mohiam

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I do not own Dune. I do not make money from this story.**

**Warning: This chapter contains non-graphic references to rape and murder. If you do** **wish to read them, do not read this chapter**.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3: Gaius Helen Mohiam<strong>

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><p><em>No record of Hadrian James Potter exists before his discovery in the courtyard of Castle Caladan in 10,191 A.G. That is to state, there is no record of either the identity of 'Hadrian James Potter' in any current records or the biological identity of the person who takes said identity. Despite inadequate information about his past, there has been confirmation that Potter was immediately admitted into the infirmary to treat a severe puncture wound to his neck upon discovery. Since his recovery, he has spent most of his time with either the Ducal family or the Duke's primary advisors, swordsmaster Duncan Idaho, mentat and Atreides Master of Assassins Thufir Hawat, and Commander Gurney Halleck of the Ducal Guard. While relatively new to House Atreides, he has been included in multiple high level strategic planning sessions; the purpose as to why, however, is unknown. In his free time, Potter is almost always in the company of Paul Atreides, the Ducal heir. <em>

_The following are rumors that have been collected that can be neither proven nor disproven. Subject has telekinetic powers. Subject is able to read minds. Subject is a Truthsayer. Subject can disappear and reappear with similarities in method of travel to that of the combination of Spacing Guild Navigators and Holtzman Engines. Subject is the illegitimate son of Duke Leto Atreides (no genetic sample has been attained for testing). _

_B.G. Archived Report #10191-R389P-MRashinoZea_

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><p>It had been six months since Harry had arrived on Caladan, six long months of training, strategy meetings, and attempting to become up-to-date with all the cultural information about this universe that could not be crammed into the books. Harry sighed, watching the sun rise over Castle Caladan. Tonight would be the last night he would sleep in these rooms for tomorrow Harry would accompany Paul, Duke Leto, and Lady Jessica to Arrakis in the final wave of the move from Caladan.<p>

But that was tomorrow. Today was today, and today was Harry's first step in his plans to change the future of this reality. While this first step would not change events in the near future, rather, it would (Harry hoped) provide a powerful ally in the fights to come. He didn't expect the entirety of the Bene Gesserit to be swayed. No, he was just looking to convert one person, Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam.

Harry had known when the Reverend Mother had arrived late last night. Stretching his magic over the castle before he had gone to bed, a task which had become habit for Harry, he searched the halls for signs of possible hostile activity. Harry had almost finished sweeping the castle from his position in his bed when he came across an anomaly. At first, he had thought that it was an uncountable number of people crammed into an extremely small space. Harry could feel each distinct set of memories, cascading and undulating in their confinement. This moment of confusion passed when he realized that this must be the Other Memory of a Bene Gesserit Reverend Mother. In her missive to Lady Jessica (of which Harry was privy to after the conclusion his trial period), Mohiam had stated that she would have arrived tomorrow to administer the Gom Jabbar, but, thanks to Harry's warning, Lady Jessica was prepared for her.

Harry watched the sun rise over the nearby port of Cala City, going over his plan for the umpteenth time. He had decided to only speak in fully qualified truths. As a Truthsayer, he knew that Mohiam could tell if he lied outright, but as a _Bene Gesserit_ Truthsayer, she could only tell if the person speaking believed a statement to be true, not if the statement was independently correct. Paul was the only person (that Harry knew of) that could identify correctness with his 'sense of rightness'. As the Emperor's personal Truthsayer, Mohiam would be used to the art of telling lies with half truths. Harry would qualify each statement so that she could not deny the truth of what he was saying, rather than just dismissing his words as not wholly false. If she asked a question that Harry did not want to answer or could not answer, he would tell her so and provide her with a reason why. If she tried to use the Voice on him… Well, Harry would have a surprise ready for her.

Turning around, the raven-haired teen went back into his room to change into his uniform. Like Paul, Harry was expected to wear the Atreides military regalia when not specifically told otherwise. He had long ago decided that he didn't like wearing the uniform. While it was very comfortable and he had been told that the uniform made him look good, the problem was, at least to Harry, that it made him look _too_ good. Whenever he wore the black military coat, forest green trousers, and shiny black boots, the eyes of most single (and some married) women followed him wherever he went. He had quite a few propositions posed to him by some of the Castle's female staff members. Each time he had politely refused, blushing wildly, it seemed like it only egged the women on. When he had spoken of this problem to Gurney Halleck during his weapons training one day, the old smuggler had broken down laughing. He had told the teen that he had become some sort of legend with the female staffers and there was a betting pool going between the male staffers as to which lass would bed him first. Harry had stormed out of his training, mid-session, leaving a red-faced Gurney Halleck lying on the floor, crying with laughter.

Suppressing this memory and muttering about women who should have their libido (and most likely parts of their brains) surgically removed, donned the uniform and went down the hall to join Paul in his rooms for a private breakfast before the young heir's trial with the Gom Jabbar.

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><p>Lady Jessica stood at the doors to her sitting room, preventing anyone from intruding, interrupting the ritual of the Gom Jabbar. She appeared externally calm, but her eyes tried (tried and failed) not to show the fear that her son would be killed. Even without actively using Legilimancy against the woman, Harry could hear her mentally screaming the Litany Against Fear, broadcasting her thoughts to anyone with the skill to listen to them. Harry got up from his chair in the antechamber and moved across the room to stand in front of Paul's mother, who stared into space in front of her, her eyes glassy, as she tried to conquer her fear. He reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder and looking into her eyes. She jumped, startled out of her daze, and her fear was visible on her face as she focused on Harry's face.<p>

"I have told you Jessica, Paul will be fine. He is human."

Harry could see moisture gather at her bottom eyelids as she tried to hold back tears. "I…I know. I know he is human… But accidents do happen." Harry could see that Paul's situation wasn't the only cause for her tears. There was another source of this reaction, a source that had plagued her for a great deal of her life. She needed more than his simple reassurances.

"Do you love your son?" The question startled Jessica out of her fear.

"He is the heir to House Atreides," she said with passion, "I gave birth to him!"

Harry nodded, "That is true, but do you _love_ the child you gave birth to?"

_SMACK!_

While Harry had been expecting the slap, it still hurt. "Of course I love him!" she said, a little too loudly. She quickly lowered her voice to a whisper so she would not be heard by the occupants of the room behind her, "I defied the Sisterhood by conceiving Paul out of love for Leto! I defied the Sisterhood by training Paul _and you_ in Sisterhood techniques because I love Paul and I know that you are one of the greatest chances to keep Paul alive on Arrakis. I would give my life for Paul."

"And because of this, you are strong!" Harry whispered back, but with no less passion, "You have been taught that to love is a weakness, a weakness of resolve. Throughout your life, you have been indoctrinated to abandon all attachment for it is a sign of weakness. You, yourself, are proof that this is a lie," Jessica blinked at the teen, confused, "Alone, you faced down the Bene Gesserit, one of the, if not _the_ most powerful institution in this Empire. You stood firm in your love in opposition to everything you had been taught. Even now, you are stronger than every other Sister or Reverend Mother in the Bene Gesserit. Every other would stand here, detached. They would have no connection to what happens inside. You, on the other hand, stand out here while your child, the same child that you would give your life for, stands inside with his life at risk. Because of your love, you have grown in your resolve because you are constantly assaulted by your instincts to protect your child. Love is not the weakness. Attachment is not the weakness. Abandonment to your instincts is the weakness. You are stronger because you are now able to overcome those instincts because those instincts are present to overcome in the first place. Those who know no love do not have that chance to strengthen themselves. You are strong, Jessica!"

Harry gave her a small smile as she nodded, resolve in her eyes.

"Good! Now, Lady Jessica, make yourself presentable. Paul is finished with the Gom Jabbar and will come to fetch you in a few moments." Harry could see the relief in Jessica's eyes as she made dried the miniscule amount of moisture from the bottoms of her eyelids and gave a small sigh. All the signs of her grief, however small they were, had disappeared by the time the door behind her opened and Paul allowed his mother to enter. Harry caught the fifteen year-old's gaze for a moment and gave him a reassuring smile.

It was time to wait.

* * *

><p>Harry was still waiting by the door when Jessica and Paul emerged. The young heir left the antechamber, deep in thought. Jessica motioned for Harry. "She has agreed to see you," she paused for a moment, before adding a concerned, "Be careful, Harry, she is extremely dangerous."<p>

"So am I, my Lady, so am I"

As Harry entered the sitting room, Jessica closed the doors behind him, taking up her post as guard.

Inside, Reverend Mother Gaius Helen Mohiam sat with her back to Harry, surveying the beautiful scenery around Castle Caladan through the large, panoramic windows. "I was informed, boy, that you wished to speak to me," all Harry could make out of the woman was her robe clad arm as she motioned to the seat next to her. Harry seated him in the offered chair, not turning to look at the aging master of politics next to him, instead, fixing his attention on the scenery in front of him. He was not going to allow her to intimidate him like the seventeen year old he appeared to be.

Once he was seated next to her, she continued, "The Bene Gesserit plays a vital role in the function of this great Empire. Why do you deem yourself important enough to request the time of a Reverend Mother, let alone the Emperor's Truthsayer?" Her voice was graveled with age. While her tone was pleasantly conversational, he detected the undercurrent of steel. It was a voice in which she could invite a friend to tea or order your execution. Harry smiled. After Voldemort, he was extremely hard to intimidate.

"I have been given the opportunity to meet with you because I know whether or not you have succeeded in creating the Kwisatz Haderach a generation early."

Whatever the Reverend Mother was expecting, that was not it. Mohiam snapped her head to her right, staring at the boy seated next to her, while simultaneously attempting to mask her flinch. "Kull wahad! What did you say?"

Harry calmly turned to face the crone, "The reason Lady Jessica requested you to meet with me is because I know whether or not your grandson, Paul Atreides, is the Kwisatz Haderach," Harry saw an emotion he never would have expected flash in Mohiam's eyes: fear. "I have answers. I have the answers to your questions; your questions, not the Bene Gesserit's."

"H-how?" the usually composed Truthsayer managed to stammer out, her _prana-bindu_ training abandoned in her cascading emotions. Harry's smile grew slightly.

"It is simple, my dear Reverend Mother," Harry closed his eyes, dropping the glamour that had masked his green Eyes of the Ibad. Opening them, he heard Mohiam gasp, "I am prescient." She could hear the truth ring in his words, only increasing her fear. "Calm yourself, Reverend Mother. Say the Litany with me._ I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing…Only I will remain._" While old woman did not join him aloud, Harry could hear her chant along with him in her mind. By the end of the mantra, the master manipulator was back to her old, crotchety self.

"Now, Reverend Mother, see the path which your fear had traveled. Your fear came to you through your own experience of prescience. You saw the jihad spread across the galaxy and you fear the death and destruction that it will follow it. You see the horrors that may accompany the Kwisatz Haderach, should he arrive a generation early."

Mohaim rose from her seat with a grace that Harry would have thought impossible had he not know about the Bene Gesserit's training. She took a few steps away from where Harry was seated and turned to face him, gesturing at him with a hand that looked more like a claw and talons than the perfectly manicured fingers and nails that they were. "You have seen this too!" At Harry's nod of confirmation she continued, bringing her entire will to bear in the Voice, trying to command his compliance, "IF THIS IS THE CASE, THEN TELL ME IF THE WHELP IS THE KWISATZ HADERACH NOW! If he is, I will kill the boy myself. We cannot allow that to happen!" the crone's eyes started to become glazed in her intensity, "I will not stand back and let trillions of people die when we can stop that now!"

Harry shot up from his chair, lowering the walls and dampeners that he had built so that his spice-strengthened would not affect those around him. "DOES THE PRIDE OF THE BENE GESSERIT KNOW NO BOUNDS, WOMAN!" Gone was the attractive raven haired, emerald-eyed teen that had been calmly conversing with the Truthsayer, in his place was a being of power. As the final and most powerful dampener that had been holding Harry's magic in check fell, a gale force wind ripped through the sitting room. With a cacophonous sound, the glassplaz of the panoramic windows exploded (although disintegrated would be a more accurate term) outward, sending a shower of sand sized shards into the empty courtyard below.

The instant Harry had risen from his chair, Mohiam had know that she had made a grievous mistake. Immediately, she had felt the pressure in the room increase, escalating to a point in which the Reverend Mother could only take short labored breaths. Harry's voice lashed out at her. While she could tell that from his speech that he had the capability to use the Voice, this was different. The words assaulted her, pounding in her ears, ringing in her very mind. In that moment, the indoctrination of the Bene Gesserit within Mohiam's mind was destroyed.

For the first time, she saw the misplaced pride and arrogance of the Sisterhood she had devoted her life to. While the Sisterhood had a worthy goal at the time of their founding, the continuity of Humanity, they had become corrupted by the very task they had taken upon themselves. Instead of attempting to help humanity as a whole, they had fallen into the trap of complacency. They had devised a pivot for humanity to rest upon, the Kwisatz Haderach. Originally, the Kwisatz Haderach was meant to see the paths that the future might take, and choose that in which Humanity might thrive. Over the years, due to their machinations in politics (which were originally enacted to set up the Kwisatz Haderach's rule) they lost sight of the true purpose of their super-being. Eventually, the Kwisatz Haderach came to be seen as the way for the Bene Gesserit to form the galaxy in the image they thought would best benefit humanity.

This realization left Mohiam's spirit and resolve crushed. When she heard the windows shatter, she was brought back to reality. Startled, she tried to scramble away from the being of power in front of her. In her haste to get away from Harry, her heel caught the hem of her robe, sending her backwards in a heap.

Harry had only released the binds that he had placed upon his magic so that he could shock Mohiam's system so severely that she would be awakened to the reality of the Bene Gesserit Order. This, however, was only one of the possible outcomes. If he had not used enough magical force accompanying his Legilimancy, the indoctrination would not be broken, but actually strengthened as it unconsciously fortified itself to fend off the attack. If Harry had used too much force, his Legilimantic probe could have shattered her mind, reducing her to something similar to the effect of long term Cruciatus exposure. While it would have caused problems for House Atreides with both the Emperor and the Bene Gesserit if Mohiam became brain damaged, Harry was willing to take the chance of being heavy-handed. If the Truthsayer was allowed to follow the path she had taken in the books, she would eventually try to assassinate Paul.

Harry reigned in his power and looked down at the pitiful old woman in front of him. Mohiam was cowering against the far wall of the destroyed sitting room, staring at a spot in front of her on the floor. As Harry approached her, he could hear her muttering under her breath, "What have we done? What have I done? Jessica… Paul… My child! I murdered my own child because of _them_!"

Seeing what he had done to this woman, a single tear slowly crawled down Harry's cheek. He knew that he had forced this woman to relive every action of her life. He had realized that she had never dealt with the horrors she had endured throughout her life. The indoctrination she had gone through did not let her emotionally address what she had faced. Everything done was done in the name of the Sisterhood. Those acts had not been done by her, but by the Sisterhood. The atrocities she had faced were not directed at her, but rather, directed at the Sisterhood. Mohiam was now reliving the birth of her ninth child and the feeling of detachment as she smothered the same child with a pillow. She had to endure the pain and humiliation as Vladimir Harkonnen paralyzed her, brutally raped her, broadcasting the rape live to every person on Giedi Prime, the same rape that resulted in the birth of Jessica.

While Harry hated that he made the old woman relive her life, he stood firm in his resolve. She had been a slave of the dogma of the corrupt Sisterhood of the Bene Gesserit. It was better to be free, burdened with those acts that had happened in slavery, than to be a slave with no hope of a chance to correct and overcome those acts.

Harry sat down on the floor in front of the cowering Reverend Mother.

"Mohiam?...Mohiam?..." There was no response, the woman was only sobbing uncontrollably. Harry decided to try something more familiar to try and catch the woman's attention.

"Gaius?" She looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. Harry could see that she had lost one of her contacts during the ordeal and now he could see the dark all-encompassing blue eye that was a symptom of spice addiction.

For a moment she just stared at him, eyes full of sorrow, lips trembling. Then, with all the speed of a Bene Gesserit fighter, she lunged across the small distance between them. Harry had not been ready for such a sudden change in demeanor, and, for an instant, he thought she was attacking him. This thought vanished almost as suddenly as it had come on when he felt her arms latch weakly around him. She buried her head in his chest, sobbing.

"I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry!"

The two of them sat there for hours, Harry gently rocking the elderly woman as she tried to blame herself for all of her sins. He calmly consoled her, making her realize that, while she made most of the choices in her life without a direct Bene Gesserit command, it had been the indoctrination she had received since birth that compelled her to make the choices she did. All she could do now was to move on, doing what was right now that she had been disillusioned with the Sisterhood.

When the Reverend Mother had finally calmed down, both clambered to their feet, their bodies protesting after such a long time on the floor. In silence Mohiam accompanied Harry to the door. Upon opening it, Harry found Jessica, standing in the same position she had been when Harry had left her. After a quick apology for the state of the room, Harry asked her if there was another secure chamber in which they could finish their discussions. Harry never did get around to actually outlining his plan for Mohiam during the years of the absence of House Atreides.

The wizard sighed, it was going to be a long day.

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><p><strong>AN: Just to head off flames at the pass, I will state this once. This will not be a Mohiam/Harry (shivers at the very thought of it) flick. She just had to go through reliving every mistake and horrible experience of her life. She just needed someone to hold her and tell her that everything was going to be alright, since she never had had anyone to do that for her when she was a child.**

**A/N #2: Please Review!**


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